Pretty Woman

Pretty woman, walking down the street
Pretty woman, the kind I like to meet...

It's a pity the world wasn't made of neuters. Would have solved many problems. Instead, we have to keep coping with the cumbersome men and women business. Ick.

After the start of my grand journey towards the unknown, some friends have been trying to keep track of my moves. Poor saps, they and their guesswork, juicy visions patched together from data that is fragmented at best.

One of them said somewhere else the other day:

"Let then also Ananda's desires be fulfilled. Quite a buzz is indeed going on at Facebook, girl after girl, each prettier than the other, seem to already be flocking around him."

I suppose that is true. Dozens of pretty girls (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12) have stopped by recently to check out the new life of this Indiana Jones of Spirituality (huh?) of Finland fame.

Pretty woman, look my way
Pretty woman, say you'll stay with me...

So do I like women? Yea, I suppose I do like women. In contrast with men, I like them a great deal in fact. The raving, brutal male sexual impulse and the psychological distortions it gives rise to repel me, indeed I find them repulsive, the ego and the cunning selfishness it emanates.

My years of intense meditative sadhana in the cosmic drama of Radha and Krishna, conceiving of myself as a young maiden in their midst, in this heaven-world of Goloka, gave me much time to contemplate on my feminine side, planting roots of psychological balance and broader insight into human nature.

It is perhaps owing to this, in part it is anyway, that I often find women having a much richer and more profound spiritual take on reality. An emphatic touch with an abundance of heart, not just the cold logic frozen philosopher's brain. My current inner core is much more at home with the former of the couplet, grown away from the cold, intellectual ego I once clad myself in, one that many of you are sadly familiar with.

So yes, I do like women, and for many reasons. Ask me about it.

Those pretty girls at Facebook are, by the way, 95% old friends either from my school days or otherwise from almost a decade back from the Krishna circles of Finland. And I have a pretty little sister, too, cute like a strawberry. I don't think any of my girlfriends have registered at Facebook yet.

What do I see
Is she walking back to me
Yeah, she's walking back to me
Oh, oh, Pretty woman...

Aho! Pretty woman...